


Scott McCall: Carrier Pigeon Extraordinaire

by nerdfightingwhovian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha Scott, Angry Derek, Angry Stiles Stilinski, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Arguments, Beta Derek, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fighting, Future Fic, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Making Up, Other Pack(s), Scott McCall is a Good Alpha, Scott is a Good Friend, Second in command Derek, Some Humor, Stiles and Derek live together, Wolf Pack, but like badass beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdfightingwhovian/pseuds/nerdfightingwhovian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles does something stupid and gets really hurt. Derek gets angry which causes Stiles to get angry. From there it's just a vicious cycle until Stiles storms out. Then it's up to Scott to get them talking to each other. </p><p>A.K.A. In which Stiles and Derek are Ron and Harry and neither Scott nor Hermione are owls.</p><p>Excerpt:<br/>“So what’re you waiting for, then?” Scott flopped down next to Stiles.</p><p>Stiles pulled off a very Derek-looking glower and crossed his arms, staring petulantly at the ceiling saying, “His apology.”</p><p>Scott rolled his eyes and went to talk to Derek.</p><p>“He wants me to apologize to him?” Derek snorted and returned to putting away his groceries, Scott stared as Derek put away a carton of 1% milk. “He’s the one that was being an idiot.”</p><p>“Yeah, but he yelled first!” Stiles protested, pacing his room while Scott sat, dejected on Stiles’ bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scott McCall: Carrier Pigeon Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Also, this is another thing keeping me from working on that sequel of [ Of Greenbeans.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4004377) I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. 
> 
> Also, I would like it mentioned that this was supposed to be really funny and cracky but it didn't turn out that way and I have no idea how I did that because I'm not good at writing things that aren't fluff and crack.

It’s a pretty commonplace thing to see Derek and Stiles arguing about something. The entire pack is accustomed to hearing Derek’s growls and snarls and Stiles’ sarcastic slow clapping. They will argue about pretty much everything. They argue about who was going to wash the windows (it was always Stiles because Derek did not give a shit if the windows were dirty, but Stiles hated washing the windows. So, of course, they argued about it). An extremely memorable argument was about a pair of socks and whether or not the left sock had actually matched the right. That argument had never been solved, and when Stiles found the pair (how he always seemed to find the same pair of white socks, Derek never completely understood) matched in their sock drawer he would take out the left one, throw it at Derek’s head and scream, “THESE SOCKS DO NOT MATCH!” To which Derek almost always responded, “THEY’RE BOTH WHITE. HOW DO THEY NOT MATCH?”

So yes, Derek and Stiles argued regularly. What they did not do was fight. Yes, they threw socks and shoes and boxes of cereal (“No one even likes Raisin Bran, Derek.” “I like Raisin Bran.”) and cartons of milk (“How many times do I have to tell you, Stiles? 1% is not milk.”). But those were mere arguments. Bickering. Because after the sock/shoe/box of Raisin Bran/carton of 1% milk had been thrown, they would glare and sit on opposite sides of the room/couch until inevitably they would be standing or sitting next to each other again.

To be honest, it fascinated the pack; the way they were drawn to each other. No matter how angry they had been at each other or how old the argument was, they drifted back into orbit. Derek’s arm would eventually pull at Stiles’ waist or Stiles would eventually rest his head on Derek’s shoulder and everything would be normal again.

But sometimes, every once in a while, they fought. And when they fought, they fought hard. Normally during their arguments their hearts beat in sync, keeping in tune with each other. But when they fought, when the screaming and the yelling and claws came out, their hearts stuttered, flipped, dropped out of rhythm. They stopped their dance and started an off-beat cacophony.

It was torturous for the wolves in the pack to hear the way their heartbeats didn’t stutter or pause when they screamed words of hate. It was hard to smell the wafts of pain and anger coming from the two men and when the fights were done and one had stormed out, the stale scent of loneliness and regret washed through the space. The scents burned at their throats, scratching and clumping in their chests.

The pack could smell the simmering anger and pain and fear in the air as they made their way up to the loft. Stiles was moving gingerly, careful not to jostle his freshly wrapped fractured ribs. The pack all hated the rust smell of dried blood from the small cuts that littered Stiles’ body. The bruises peeking out from under torn areas of his shirt were a dark purple tinged with red around the edges.

The pack whimpered at the thought of Stiles going through what he had gone through. Some of the cuts were long and thin, the result of sharp knives cutting shallowly into his skin. Some were deeper and thicker, the result of the rival wolf pack digging and dragging their claws. Stiles comforted them, dragged his hands through their hair, across their shoulders, along the back of their necks. He hid his winces as the movements pulled at the bindings around his ribs, but continued to scent mark and comfort the pack anyway.

Once they were back at the loft and Stiles had settled in, groaning and sighing when he was finally able to relax into the recliner he had claimed as his own when he had moved in.The shifters of the pack were on edge, smelling the anger, fear, and anxiety pouring off Derek in waves.

He growled low and flashed his blue eyes, “Get out.”

The pack looked to Scott as the Alpha; at his small nod, the pack began leaving. As Scott’s second-in-command, Derek had power over all of them but Scott almost always had the final say.

As he left Scott patted Derek on the shoulder, “Don’t be too hard on him.”

Derek closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Derek settled himself against the wall, shoulders pressed flat against it, arms folded across his chest.

Stiles was sitting in the recliner, head back, mouth dropped open slightly, eyes closed lightly. He looked at peace or napping. Stiles’ eyes fluttered open and focused in on Derek. “Say it.” 

Derek scowled, “Say what?”

“Say I was an idiot. Say what I did was stupid or dangerous or unnecessary or whatever you’re calling it in your head.”

“I’m calling it all of the above.”

“Of course you are.” Stiles smirked and let out a slight huff of laughter.

“Are you laughing at me right now?” Derek growled and pushed himself off the wall.

Stiles waved a lazy hand through the air, “I’m laughing more at our situation.”

“Oh the situation where you were an idiot and almost died. The situation where you willingly and knowingly did something mind-numbingly stupid that got you hurt. You could have died, Stiles. You don’t heal like the rest of us.”

Stiles jumped up from where he was sitting and jabbed a finger at Derek. “Oh so we’re going to do this now? Usually you save the fragile human bullshit for a couple days after the fact.”

“You’re damn right we’re doing this now. You’re the one always going on about werewolves and our unfailing ability to sacrifice ourselves as martyrs to the pack.”

Stiles snorted and crossed his arms, “Well, maybe I wanna be just like you, Derek. Go charging off into the dark woods. Get myself beat to hell. Almost die. Then make some miraculous recovery. You do it all the fucking time.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. Ever since you implemented the rule of three I have stuck by it.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I have to play a bit of catch up. Maybe next I’ll get myself stabbed through with a pole or fall onto an escalator.”

“That’s nowhere near the same and you know it.”

“What?” Stiles snorted, “Because you’re a werewolf? Because you were an Alpha? Because you’re older than me? Because you’re Derek Fucking Hale and fuck you that’s why? Because I’m a squishy, fragile human who always needs to be protected and coddled?” 

“Because I was alone then. You have so many people who care about you and would have gone with you in a heartbeat.”

Stiles crossed his arms, “I went there for negotiations, Derek! They fucking ambushed me!”

Derek’s eyes burned blue and his claws extended, “Don’t!” Derek charged forward pushed against Stiles’ chest, “Don’t you dare lie to me. That story is fucking bullshit and you know it. They know it,” Derek gestured to outside where the pack was undoubtedly waiting, “I know it, and you know it.” Derek pushed at Stiles’ chest again, eyes still burning Beta blue. “You have been telling us for weeks that this pack wouldn’t listen to any negotiation. There would be no agreements or seeing things halfway or compromising. Not without proving our capability.” Derek crossed his arms, “Your words, not mine.”

“So what?” Stiles threw his arms up and let out a small wince at the strain it put on his ribs, “So what? We proved our capability, we got the compromise we wanted. It’s over and done with. Finished. Fini. Finito.” Stiles turned and started to head to their room.

Derek grabbed Stiles by the shoulder and spun him around. “This isn’t over and done with. You can’t just go out and do shit like this.”

“What? Because I’m fucking human and the rest of you are super healing shifters or whatever? Because I’m not strong or fast? Because I can’t shoot a gun or wield a sword?” Stiles threw his hands up again and tugged at his hair. “I can’t believe we’re still having this fight!” 

“We’re still having this fight, Stiles, you’re the one who keeps bringing it up!” Derek reached up and tugged at his hair.

Stiles snorted and crossed his arms, “You’re the one who keeps telling me I can’t do things because I’m human!

“No!” Derek’s eyes flared, glowing brighter. “I’m telling things you can’t do things because they’re dangerous and stupid and you could get hurt or die!”

“I’m sick and tired of being treated differently because I’m human!”

Derek let out an exasperated growl and tugged at his hair again, “I’m not treating you any differently Stiles!”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Stiles stormed up to Derek and pushed at his shoulders, “You’re always treating me like I’m a fragile little human, always about to break! Awww look at the poor Stiles, let me just smother him in fucking blankets and fucking bubble wrap!!!”

“It’s better than being treated like an asshole who is ruining your life because I want you to fucking stay alive!” Derek pushed back at Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles stumbled backward.

Tears sprang to Stiles’ eyes, “If that’s how you see it, MAYBE I SHOULD FUCKING LEAVE!”

Derek’s fangs pushed through his gums, “MAYBE YOU SHOULD!”

“FINE!” screamed Stiles, rushing to the door. He pushed the loft’s sliding door so that it crashed into the end of the track.

“GOOD!” Derek screamed back as the door crashed shut behind Stiles. Even knowing that Stiles was already in the elevator and definitely couldn’t hear him he yelled again, “GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE!”

Derek’s claws and fangs receded and his eyes faded. He looked around the now empty, silent loft and said again, quietly to himself, “Good fucking riddance.”

Stiles drove home, tears of anger and frustration spilling out and splashing onto his dirty and torn jeans. He had not paid attention to the pack still waiting outside, but he knew objectively that some members of the pack had stayed with Derek and some were following Stiles. He also knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that some of the members had probably heard at least some of what he and Derek had said to each other.

Scott, Kira, Lydia, and Malia joined Stiles in his old bedroom at the Sheriff’s in a puppy pile. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Liam stayed with Derek in the loft. For a week the two stayed apart. The tension buzzed down the pack connections and made everyone tense. Isaac spent less and less time in rooms with closed doors. Malia started to lose control of her shift and even began chasing a squirrel. Liam’s temper made a roaring return. And Scott, frankly, was sick and tired of this stupid fight between Derek and Stiles. Neither one willing to admit being at fault or wrong. So Scott, as Alpha, took matters into his own hands.

“You know, going off by yourself with the intent of being taken hostage by a violent, rival pack really wasn’t a good idea. I mean, you are the one who implemented the whole ‘at least three in times of danger’ rule.”

Stiles threw his hands up and flopped down onto his bed. “You think I don’t know that? I know that.”

“So what’re you waiting for, then?” Scott flopped down next to Stiles.

Stiles pulled off a very Derek-looking glower and crossed his arms, staring petulantly at the ceiling saying, “His apology.”

Scott rolled his eyes and went to talk to Derek.

“He wants me to apologize to him?” Derek snorted and returned to putting away his groceries, Scott stared as Derek put away a carton of 1% milk. “He’s the one that was being an idiot.”

“Yeah, but he yelled first!” Stiles protested, pacing his room while Scott sat, dejected on Stiles’ bed.

“Puh-lease,” Derek snorted at Scott and began washing the windows, “he did something dangerous and stupid that could have gotten not only himself but other people seriously injured. What is even the point of having that stupid rule if that moron doesn’t even follow it?” He crossed his arms and totally ignored the suds that the motion deposited on his sleeve.

Scott sighed, “Can I just tell him you apologized?”

“NO!” Stiles was close to punching Scott. “You can, however,” Stiles shouted after Scott’s retreating form, “tell him to GO FUCK HIMSELF!”

“Stiles said to say he’s very, very sorry and that it won’t ever happen again.”

Scott was very pleased with his lie until Derek snorted and said, “bullshit,” As he folded the laundry. He held up two white socks and stared at them before discarding the one in his left hand and picking up a different white sock.

“What?”

“I said, ‘Bullshit.’ Stiles didn’t apologize.” Derek put down the laundry in his hands, crossed his arms, and frowned, “You’re lying to me.”

Scott groaned and stared at the ceiling, silently asking for the strength to go on.  “How did you know?”

Derek smirked, “Stiles’ apologies are not the most verbose.” At Scott’s puzzled frown Derek sighed and said, “He doesn’t use a lot of words in his apologies, Scott.” At Scott’s continued confusion, Derek rubbed his forehead with a palm and said, “He’s more of a shower than a teller, Scott.”

Scott stared until he finally understood Derek, “OOOHHH….. EWWWWWW.” Scott flopped onto the couch, head in his hands, “Please tell me what to say to him so that he will come back here.” He whined, “I can’t do this anymore. All this fighting and sadness and pining.”

“Pining?” Derek raised an eyebrow, “He’s pining for me?”

Scott shook his head, “You’re pining for each other.”

Derek scoffed, “I am not pining for him.”

This time it was Scott’s turn to look indulgent and smug, “Dude, you bought 1% milk. You’ve washed the windows. You even paid attention to matching the white socks correctly. In fact, I bet that if I look in your cupboard, I’d see boxes of Reeses Puffs and no boxes of Raisin Bran.”

Derek shifted from foot to foot, then sighed and sat himself next to Scott on the couch. “Oh all right, fine.”

Hours after Scott left the loft, Derek received a text from Stiles:

From: Your Most Epic LoveBug

Sent: 3:03 A.M.

Do you really miss me?

Derek snorted and typed back a response: Of course I do, idiot.

He paused then sent another one: And I don’t know what he told you, but I didn’t wash the windows.

Two minutes later the loft door crashed open and Stiles rocketed through it, throwing himself into Derek’s arms and wrapping himself around Derek’s torso. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I’m an idiot and I don’t listen to my plans and rules.” He glanced up from where his head rested against the crook of Derek’s neck, “And you totally washed the windows, you softie.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you hate cleaning the windows.”

Stiles smiled, “And you could give two flying shits about how clean the windows are.”

Derek shrugged and walked them to his bed, depositing Stiles gently onto the comforter, “Why do I need clean windows when all I want to look at is inside my loft?”

Stiles giggled and slapped Derek’s arm, “You’re a sappy asshole.”

Derek grinned and flopped down next to Stiles, “And you’re a stubborn moron.”

Stiles laughed and moved so that he was straddling Derek’s hips, “Now, I do believe I have an apology to deliver you.” Stiles slid his hands under Derek’s shirt and pressed a kiss to the underside of Derek’s chin.

Derek groaned and grabbed Stiles’ hands, pulling them from under his shirt, “In the morning. Right now, I just wanna hold you.” Derek’s arms came up to wrap around Stiles’ ribs, holding the younger man to his chest.

Stiles nestled down, pressing light kisses to where Derek’s collarbone was exposed by the low neckline of his tank top. “Works for me, SappyWolf.” Stiles stroked his fingers through Derek’s hair.

Derek’s eyes fluttered closed and the two lay in silence for a few moments before Stiles lifted his head up and said, “Hey, Der?”

“Hmm?” Derek opened his eyes and focused at the younger man staring at him with dark brown eyes.

“You know I love you, right?”

A soft smile graced Derek’s face, “Of course I know you love me. Just like you know I love you.”

Stiles smiled, “Just wanted to make sure.”

Derek pressed his lips against Stiles’ hair, “Now get some sleep, you have a lot of apologizing to do in the morning.”

Stiles laughed and settled back down, letting his eyes drift close, “Yeah, I do.”

 

  



End file.
